


Shopping Carts

by dreariesdrawlings



Category: Free!
Genre: Feelings Realization, Growing Up, M/M, Pre-Relationship, T rating for language, idk its losers in love, inappropriate use of a futon, lol asahi says fuck, theres some other characters but theyre not like actually important, they go to the mall at some point??, using shopping carts as motor vehicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreariesdrawlings/pseuds/dreariesdrawlings
Summary: Asahi loves Kisumi in ten stories and 3,000 words.





	Shopping Carts

**Author's Note:**

> so i finished the new season two days ago and i dont really know who i am anymore
> 
> but honestly, writing this was so much fun, and im so excited to see these dorks in the future. their on screen chemistry is just,, so good. im so soft. 
> 
> and no, the fic's not actually 3000 words. i was under the impression it was 2000-something so the original summary was going to be "and 3000 words or less" but then it was more so this is what we're stuck with
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

I.  
Asahi doesn’t realise he’s in love at first because it doesn’t feel like anything the storybooks told him it would. Then again, most storybooks don’t have a loser like Kisumi Shigino in them. The same loser who’s spread across Asahi’s floor, wearing a loose tank top and a pair of shorts and an unzipped hoodie that he _absolutely_ stole off his friend’s bed, whining about how it was too hot for late August. 

“Take off the jacket then, idiot,” Asahi huffs, unwilling to spare his friend another glance since Kisumi starfished on the ground in the first place. He’s got an english assignment due the next day. He needs to _focus_. 

“Don’t you know, Asahi?” Kisumi cheerfully responds. The redhead feels himself physically bracing for whatever nonsense is about to come out of his friend’s mouth. “In the desert, most people wear clothes with long, flowing sleeves to protect themselves from the heat and sun!” 

He releases his breath, turning in his swivel chair to see Kisumi propped up on his elbows with a shiteating grin. Asahi pulls off his pencil top eraser and flicks it at his friend, nailing him right in the forehead. “There’s no fucking _sun_ in my _bedroom_ ,” he states, fishing behind him for more erasers. 

“You’re my everlasting sun!” Kisumi shouts, hands up and blocking his face from the rain of erasers that it earns. Once satisfied with his siege, Asahi swivels back around, refocused on his project. 

Peace lasts for less than five minutes. Of course, he doesn’t _want_ to take the bait, but when Kisumi starts sporadically flicking erasers at the back of his head, the only logical solution is a full body tackle. 

II.  
Asahi watches Kisumi try to comfortably situate himself in the shopping cart. 

“You’re too grown for this,” he comments, electing a high pitched noise of protest from his friend. Still, the 180 centimetres tall sixteen year old manages to wiggle himself into the bottom basket of the cart, earning a few appraising looks from the young people working the registers. He gives Asahi a big, bright, victorious smile.

“Yeah yeah, that’s great and all, but now I have to push your heavy ass,” the redhead complains. Kisumi just keep smiling. With a drawn out groan, Asahi starts pushing. 

III.  
Maybe the problem is that they don’t see each other often enough. Kisumi still lives in the general Iwatobi area, despite having informed Asahi some time ago that he wouldn't be going on to the adjoining Iwatobi High School. It’s almost a four and a half hour plane ride away from where Asahi lives in Kyushu, and that’s to be _combined_ with the forty-five minute long train ride to his small suburban neighbourhood. And yet, Kisumi still makes the trek every summer, despite the fact that it meant leaving his mom alone for a week and a half with a small child that she’s always seemed just a bit too frazzled about having to take care of. And despite the fact that their summer breaks don’t actually line up, meaning Kisumi has to spend the first part of his vacation milling around Asahi’s house by himself while his companion finishes the first term of the school year. 

The pink haired teen insists he doesn’t mind. Asahi didn’t believe him at first, but then Kisumi spent the money to do it again the next year, and the next, and suddenly it just felt normal. 

It only makes sense that he spends the whole Wednesday anticipating Kisumi’s arrival. It’s hard not to be excited. His friends tease him for checking the clock every five minutes, but Asahi refuses to feel embarrassed for it. 

Every time he spots bright pink hair in the crowd, he’s twelve years old again, the summer after he moved away from the town he swore he’d stay forever. He’s nervous for some dumb reason- if he didn’t know Kisumi liked him when they'd gone to school together, the endless stream of text messages and giant stack of letters in his desk were pretty good indicators -, so he digs his nails into his palm and wills himself not to cry. Just like the first time and all the times after that, Kisumi’s lips are turned down to a focused frown, eyes scanning the busy train station. 

Asahi’s breath doesn't catch when they make eye contact, but it does when Kisumi’s entire form seems to brighten, practically lighting up the room. He wiggles through the throng of people until he’s right in front of Asahi, giving Kisumi the perfect access to throw his arms around the other’s shoulders and tuck his face against the redhead’s neck. 

Unlike the first time, Kisumi mutters a soft, “I missed you.” Asahi feels his neck heat up. 

And then they go home and fling erasers at each other and Asahi blames his speeding heart on leftover adrenaline. 

IV.  
Initially, Asahi thought the two scarves his sister tied around his neck were excessive. That was, of course, _before_ he spent an hour trying to find Kisumi’s hotel whilst braving the severe north Japan winter. Two scarves were hardly enough. He’d take a whole electric blanket.

Finally, he spots a light at the end of the tunnel, a jogger in what appears to be Kisumi’s school colours. Said jogger takes obvious pity on Asahi’s chattering teeth and walks him all the way back to where his loser friend is staying, giving him oral instructions to Kisumi’s room as well as written to a natural hot spring. He takes both gratefully.

Standing outside room 407, it feels too quiet. Asahi checks his phone, sees the bright ‘5:03 AM’ decorating the screen, and briefly contemplates why the hell he was _ever_ willing to get up this early in the morning. Then, a breath, and he knocks.

No answer. 

He knocks again.

“Give me a second!” he hears Kisumi grumble from the inside, his voice so thick with sleep that it makes Asahi smile despite himself. After some stomping, the sound of something falling over, and a sharp _Ow!_ , the door swings open. 

His hair is messy, like he’d honest to God just rolled out of bed, despite the half eaten dishes spread across the low sitting table behind him. He’s wearing a pair of his old basketball shorts that Asahi remembers telling him to scrap because of the hole in the crotch and one of the redhead’s own high school swim team sweatshirts. 

“You smell like ass,” Asahi comments as he watches his closest friend’s expression sift through a series of excited and concerned expressions. 

“Your lips are blue!” comes Kisumi’s response, followed by a firm grip on his wrists that yanks him into the room. 

Kisumi’s roommate introduces himself as the former frets about the room, trying to find Asahi something warm and dry to change into. They settle on a pair of skin tight workout pants layered over one of Kisumi’s own custom fitted skinny jeans, coupled with another of Asahi’s sweatshirts ( _how did he managed to collect so many?!_ ) and a spare team jacket Kisumi has lying around. 

At breakfast, the entire basketball team already knows his name. 

The team doesn't make it to semifinals, which is a little disappointing, but they still celebrate making it to nationals at all. Asahi relishes in getting to see Kisumi in his own element, surrounded by all his club friends and elated that Asahi gets to meet them as well.They share Kisumi’s hotel room for the night and no one bats an eyelash. The next day, Asahi goes home in the same outfit before, with Kisumi’s team sweatshirt tucked under his arm. 

He starts sleeping in it at night without a second thought. 

_They all knew his name._

V.  
Or maybe the problem lies in the fact that Asahi’s always been a bit in love with Kisumi. Why should he notice if nothing’s ever changed? It’s not something he thinks about as they race through the aisles of the supermarket, Kisumi toppling things from the lower shelves into his basket when Asahi’s not paying attention. 

He had an inkling once, when they were fourteen. It was too hot to be crowded inside, so he and Kisumi were shooed outside, where they laid in the grass that was still a bit wet from the early morning sprinklers. 

“Hey,” Kisumi whispered. Asahi looked over to see his companion staring at the sky. “You’re, like, my best friend. And I don’t really know what I’d do without you.”

Asahi feels his throat get extremely thick all of a sudden, and his eyes burn with unshed tears. _God,_ he thinks, _God, I-_

A moment later, there’s a handful of wet grass shoved down his shirt, and the mood’s forgotten. 

VI.  
_“I don’t think I’m going to be able to come down this summer.”_

Asahi’s upset for a moment. It’s their last year of high school, he thinks. Their last summer together. But then his brain finally registers the thick emotion in Kisumi’s voice and all objections are forgotten. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

_“I…”_ he can hear Kisumi swallow through the phone crackling phone. _“It’s my mom again. She’s just- they want to take her in for observation or something. And I need to stay and take care of Hayato. I just- I’m sorry.”_

“Don’t apologise to _me_. Just be sure to let me know if you need anything.”

Silence, then, _“I wish you were here.”_ Asahi hears himself swallow this time. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

VII.  
It’s just that falling in love with Kisumi isn’t really a _falling_ feeling. It’s more like a pressure in the centre of his chest, one that scares him, one that increases a little more when the pink haired idiot does something stupid, like trying to ride Hayato’s futon down the staircase. 

Being in Kisumi’s house for the first time after so long is strange, especially because it’s empty. Somewhere between summer and now, his mom was admitted for long term psychological care, and social work decided to intervene. All guardianship and fiscal responsibility was signed over to Kisumi’s grandmother, who moved Hayato into her two bedroom condo out by the ocean. Kisumi would stay with a teammate in Iwatobi until he graduated. That’s where Asahi came in, visiting out of the blue to help his old friend move house. 

Some time after lunch (and well after they gave up doing anything productive for the rest of the day) they find a pair of skateboards in the garage- a product of some time during primary school when Kisumi listened to Avril Lavigne _religiously_. “I just got the worst idea,” he says, violet eyes bright. Asahi feels the adrenaline kick in. 

It is a truly terrible idea. Duct tape costs hardly anything at the convenience store down the street, so they manage to scramble enough loose change from the corners of Kisumi’s desk and are all too soon duct taping the futons to the skateboards. And then they’re racing down the hill outside Kisumi’s house- the same narrow path they’d race up together back in middle school. Basking in the nostalgia makes Asahi lose his lead, so before Kisumi can get to the bottom of the street first, Asahi veers towards him, flinging himself off his skateboard and tackling Kisumi into the grass of some poor sap’s lawn.

It’s not a romantic landing, where Asahi might roll on top of him and they’d gaze into each others eyes. It’s ugly. Kisumi somehow manages to knee him in the ribcage, and when they finally stop rolling, Asahi can feel blood somewhere on his leg and he’s not really sure who it belongs to. 

But then, Kisumi laughs with more feeling than he’s showed since Asahi arrived Friday night, and things don’t seem so scary anymore. 

VIII.  
Because he can’t visit in the summer, he comes in the winter instead, barring presents for Asahi, and his sister, and her husband, and his parents, too. He doesn’t bother telling Asahi about this, of course, so when he arrives home from school, surprised is an _understatement_ to how he feels walking into the living room and seeing every member of his household with monster-like green face masks and cucumbers over their eyes. 

“Asahi!” Kisumi exclaims, excitedly waving his arms in the teen’s general direction. “Kaachan said we could go to Canal City Hakata tomorrow!” 

He blinks, trying to decide if he’s more disturbed by the notion of trying to slay _that_ beast with Kisumi or if it’s simply due to his best friend calling his mother _kaachan_.

As a response, he opts to glare at the kaachan in question. 

“I can feel you glaring,” she comments, not looking at all bothered from behind the cucumbers. “Treat your guest well or I’ll start hosting book club here again.”

And so, he takes Kisumi to the Canal City Hakata, one of the largest shopping centres in the whole of Japan. It’s a goddamn nightmare. Setting the crowds aside, Kisumi seems determined to at least browse _every single store_ before the day is over, leaving them hardly any time do _actual_ shopping. He bounces around with a seemingly endless amount of energy, excitedly asking store attendants for recommendations and trying a load of silly outfits on. And, while the entire experience is greatly overwhelming, Asahi finds himself having fun wearing fluffy fur coats with his best friend and fake battling with cheap lightsaber props in the toy store. 

When they finally throw in the towel, some 60 store later, they do inventory while walking back to the train station. Asahi picked up a nice snow globe for his mom and a pretty tea cup his sister would like. Kisumi grabbed Hayato a new pair of goggles from a high end sports store and plans to couple it with two bag loads of foreign candy. 

“Oh, and I got you something!” he tells Asahi excitedly, rifling through his bags until he pulls out… 

Two silver bracelets, each linked with a small band in the centre. 

“It’s more like a gift for me, too, but, you know,” Kisumi’s smiling cheeks are dusted red from the cold outside. There are snowflakes caught in his brown knitted scarf. Asahi starts to feel a lot like he did at age fourteen, sprawled out on the grass under the summer sun, looking at his best friend like he’d never seen him before. 

He takes the bracelet. Their names are engraved in pretty, curvy scripture. “How did you get this without me noticing?” he asks, absolutely enamoured with the small object. 

“I- uh- brought it from home,” Kisumi admits, cheeks turning even darker. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I-” the lump in his throat is getting unbearable. “They’re really nice. Thank you.” He makes a show of setting down his bags from the mall and putting his bracelet on, then offering to put Kisumi’s on, too, trying his hardest to ignore the rough calluses he notices on his best friend’s hands. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, only loud enough for Kisumi to hear because of how close they’re standing. Kisumi grins wider. 

And then there’s a freezing cold bracelet pressed against his face. 

“ _You_ are an _ass!_ ” Asahi exclaims, chasing after Kisumi when the pink haired teen tries to make a break for it. He manages to get him a headlock, ruffling his oh-so-perfect hair out of shape until his the tears of laughter feel especially frozen to his cheeks. 

When they get back to Asahi’s house, his mom gives their wrists a single glance, then shoots his sister a knowing look. 

IX.  
Even when he doesn’t know that he’s in love with Kisumi, he still does things as an act of it. Things that don’t seem so much of a big deal to him but would obviously be a big deal if he’d done it for anyone else. One of such things are requesting to receive his final exams a week early, meaning he can graduate a week early, meaning he and his mom can hop on the earliest flight to Tottori. 

Kisumi finds the two Shiinas on his doorstep two days before his own graduation and immediately breaks into sobs. 

They sit with Hayato and Kisumi’s grandmother in the crowd, Asahi having to exert a medal worthy amount of self control not to scream in excitement when Kisumi takes his bows. Afterwards, the whole group follows the pink haired man up to his homeroom, where Asahi gets to meet several of Kisumi’s friends, excitedly chattering to them about Kisumi’s top 10 most embarrassing moments over the course of the year. 

When they’re all released from homeroom, the entire graduating class goes ape shit outside the school doors. Several of the sports team captains have climbed onto the roof and are pouring water down on their respective team members. There’s a lot of cheering and screaming and chanting that Kisumi coerces Asahi into joining, while his grandmother takes Asahi’s mom and Hayato to go sit in the car. 

After that fiasco, Asahi slides over to where the basketball team all stands together, cheering as the graduating varsity members compete at chugging huge bottles of energy drinks that spill all over their fancy school uniform. The redhead notes that Kisumi’s second button is missing. He tries not to think about it too hard. 

When they’re finished being goofy teenage boys, Kisumi and Asahi walk to the car together. He doesn’t question when the pink haired teen slides his arm around his waist, but he does flush when he feels his best friend’s hand slip into his back pocket. 

When it leaves, he feels a new, definitively circular weight left behind. 

He tries not to think about it too hard. 

X.  
They never talked about going to Tokyo together; it kind of just happened. 

Asahi somehow managed to forget to buy some basic essential being alive stuff, like cups and forks, which makes Kisumi laugh like a madman. When they arrive to the department store, they find that the shopping carts are much smaller than the ones back in Asahi’s town in Kyushu, with only one basket. 

One _small_ basket. 

Asahi glances at his companion, who’s staring at the wheeled contraption like it is a _challenge_. 

Of course, all 182 centimetres don’t fit. Hell, his ass hardly fits, legs sticking straight up the air as he grins at Asahi as though he’s _won_. 

_God,_ the redhead thinks. _I’m so in love with you._

The realisation isn’t startling. It doesn’t hit all at once. It settles amongst the humming pressure against his chest, and it feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> that's a wrap i guess!
> 
> if you liked that, you may like my tumblr, which is under the same name as my ao3! i post mostly marvel and shit posts (and cats), but ive been blogging a lot of free! stuff lately, so come take a gander. im always up for having a friendly chat over dorks in love!!
> 
> and, as always, 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!


End file.
